New Ropes, Old Game
by Dark Kaneanite
Summary: A request that literally wiped my brain of ideas. -Oneshot-


_A/N: Ok, in all reality, this fic shouldn't even exist. But it does because I was asked to write it. That's right, it was requested. Now I'm not saying any of this happened, nor is it true. I mainly picked a time period and worked a work of fiction of what might have happened. That being said, this is a sorta-slash fic. Mainly because I can't see these two actually getting it on. So it's a half-slash work. _

_Also for my lovely readers that read 'This wasn't in the Job Description' I have asked to do a sequel of sorts where I bring Twisted and the BoD back. I've been kicking around ideas for it, none have really jelled but I would like to know if you would read it if I put some more effort into banging something out. With all that being said, enjoy and I hope I haven't scarred anyone for life with this. *kisses and lovage*_

* * *

_What the fuck am I doing here? _The words looped over and over again in his heads as he watched the hustle and bustle of the backstage crew. Every so often a familiar face from his past would wander by and they'd trade pretty fabricated pleasantries before giving limp handshakes and moving on. The newer faces looked at him in some sort of awe; stars that hadn't yet been burnt out by constant travel and dreams that hadn't yet been torn asunder by greed, shining in their eyes and glowing radiantly on their eager young faces.

"Hey Johnson!"

The grating tone of voice could only belong to one person; Chris Irvine. Dwayne squared his shoulders and plastered an utterly false smile on his face as he turned around, his mouth dropping open in surprise when he seen a genuine smile curving Chris' lips and the elder Hardy standing next to him with their fingers twined intimately.

"What's this? The Great one at a loss for words?" Chris laughed; grinning unrepentantly when Matt playfully smacked his shoulder. "Just wanted to say it's good to see you again."

"Yea man, I can't wait to see what you have in mind for RAW tonight." Matt threw in, a large content smile stretching his plump lips.

Dwayne nodded; still semi-shocked, after all he knew how happy Chris and his wife had been and Matt had always seemed to be happy being single. They both clapped him on the shoulder and moved on, Chris making some playful lewd remark that made Matt laugh and Dwayne blush even though it hadn't been directed at him. The intensity and pace of those around him picked up and minutes later Dwayne found himself being tugged into wardrobe. The two diva whom were going to escort him were already in the small room and hid annoying giggles as he was stripped down to his boxers. After a few minutes and four or five discarded outfits later Dwayne stood in front of a full length mirror wondering again why he was there.

From wardrobe he was rushed to Vince's make-shift office and after tightly exchanged smiles, they went through a rough outline of what was going to happen. Mostly Dwayne had free reign; Vince only had two matches that he had to have 'made' and one segment set up, so there was plenty of room for 'The Rock' to leave his mark on RAW. The parting words that were growled set Dwayne's nerves on edge and unfurled wings on butterflies that he had thought he had exterminated long ago.

"I don't care what you do Johnson, just make sure you bury fucking Foley and Flair. I want their little goddamned 'rival' company put so far down that even the damned UnderTaker can't resurrect it."

He nodded and left the maroon faced man alone; his mind wandering back to a particular memory that most would have done dismissed or even forgotten all together.

_1999_

"_You've got to be kidding me!" He cried indignantly. "Team with 'Mankind'? What in the hell is that going to do for me. I'm already so far over that I'm on the bottom of the other side."_

"_Listen here, I don't care what you think is going on, the fact of the matter is that you're teaming with Mick, now you can get with the damn program or you can get your gear and get out. You've got a lot to learn about the ropes kid, remember that." Vince growled in his gravelly tenor._

_Dwayne had opened his mouth to say something but the glare that Vince was leveling at him clearly told him that he was dismissed. With a scowl he slammed from the room, growling and shoving people out of his way as he headed back towards the locker room. The familiar strains of 'Mankind's music filtered down the hall and with narrowed eyes he moved to the gorilla position and watched as the large, lumbering simpleton moved about the ring; speaking in that damned shrill voice that he adopted for that character and making a complete fool of himself. His opponent, 'Kane', pushed past him, scowling as he stopped only long enough to put his mask on then stormed down to the ring. The match was back and forth; both men having fought before and knowing their moveset almost as well as their own. The masked big man hit a rather convincing thrust upper cut that had Mick reeling and wobbling, the hard hit was followed by a clothes line to the outside where 'Kane' grabbed the ringsteps and started pounding on Mick's back. With wide eyes Dwayne watched as they battled, Mick having been cut open at one point as well as bleeding from his mouth. By the time the ref called the match off, Mick was sporting a crimson mask that looked like it would be more at home on someone that had just had the skin of their face ripped clean off._

'_Kane' come stalking back up the ramp and Dwayne moved over slightly as he all but ripped the mask off his face and took deep gasping breaths; sweat glistening and streaking down his face. With a lopsided smile at Dwayne he moved away, whistling under his breath and a swagger gracing his steps. A stretcher was rolled out with the army of 'medical' attendants and moments later Mick was rolled back, ruby towels lying next to him on the rolling back board with more of the life giving essence springing forth from a large wound near his scalp. Once the cameras moved away Mick practically jumped up from the stretcher, holding a new towel to his forehead and trading jokes with one of the trainers as he opened his kit and rummaged through it. _

"_Hey Rocky!" Mick called out when he seen Dwayne standing towards the back of the group, "C'mere, we have some talking to do."_

_Dwayne's lips tilted down into a frown but he moved forwards anyway, fully intending on telling Mick that his name was Dwayne and not 'Rocky' but before he got close to the bleeding man Vince parted the small crowd and stood infront of him with his arms crossed over his chest._

"_What in the hell was that out there Mick?" Vince bellowed; a vein pulsing in his forehead as he glared down at the seated man._

"_You know when you put Glenn and I in that ring together we're going to tear each other apart. We're monsters Vinny, it's what we've gotta do. Besides, did you hear the crowd? For not being a main event it was pretty lively."_

_Dwayne watched as Vince opened and closed his mouth, his face going even redder when he realized that everyone around him knew that he was at a loss for words._

"_Well, cut that shit out. No more." He grumbled as he moved away, scowling and barking at everyone that happened to get in his way._

_Mick laughed and looked back over at Dwayne; his face more presentable than before, but still looking like he'd gone through a plate glass window. _

"_Listen kid, I know Vinny put us together as a tag team." He started without preamble. "And judging by the look on your face I'm not the person you're wanting to be saddled with. Truth of the matter is, I see a lot in you and I think I can help ya." Mick hopped down off the stretcher and after one more swipe with the towel he placed an arm around Dwayne's shoulders, drawling him close and speaking directly in his ear. "Look Rocky, I can see you're going places, places further away then wrestling, I just want to help you along the way. Guys like me, Glenn, Mark, even Paul or Hunter whatever you call him, we're always going to be stuck here, but you…you are heading to places we can't even dream of." He squeezed Dwayne close then released him, smiling largely at him. "Tell ya what why don't we go get something to eat and we'll talk more then."_

_Dwayne nodded his head, internally admitting that even though Mick wasn't the best looking man, or the most graceful there was something that drew attention and then trapped a person once they gave into the curiosity. Later that evening Dwayne found himself sitting across from Mick and watching as he deftly juggled talking to the waitress and a couple fans at the same time as well as keep a running dialogue with him as well. A few minutes later their food was set down and the small gathering of admirers drifted away; leaving them to eat in semi peace. Cleaned up and with his unruly curls contained Dwayne had to grudgingly admit that he cut a rugged picture—not one that if he were in men, he'd like—but a dashingly rugged picture none the less._

"_Look, I guess what I'm really saying here Rocky, don't let anyone guilt you into doing what you don't want to do."_

"_Even tagging with you?" Dwayne asked, unable to hold the question back then blushing slightly, "What I mean is.."_

"_You don't think this will help you in the long run." Mick shrugged, "I don't blame you, if I were in your shoes I'd think the same thing, and if you really don't want to then you don't have to, but think of what you could learn."_

_Gently chastised Dwayne sat back and picked at his meal, watching Mick covertly and throwing in indiscriminate grunts for replies. Thankfully it didn't last much longer and Mick pushed away from the table with a smile, putting down what he owed for his half of the meal and patting Dwaynes' shoulder before disappearing from the crowded restaurant. It was a few days later before Dwayne seen Mick, this time being escorted back to the trainers room; his eyes glazed and unfocused as a mismash of words jumbled themselves as they fell from his lips. One of the refs barked at him to move and deftly he moved to the side, watching silently as the slumped and stumbling man went on and on about things that no one understood. The word 'concussion' hung on the air and it was whispered that it might be the worst one yet, and out of sheer morbid curiosity Dwayne found himself following the odd procession back to the small cupboard like space they had absconded with for that night's use. The room filled and emptied quickly; the trainers dispersing to go on about other duties after shining the light in Mick's eyes and asking his name and other nonsense then telling him that he wasn't allowed to sleep for the next 12 to 24 hrs while some others argued that he needed the sleep. Dwayne looked around before slipping in and waiting for Mick to notice him; looking on quietly as the older man seemed to be holding a coherent conversation that apparently only he understood._

"_Mick?"_

"_Oh hey Rocky." Mick called out cheerfully after jumping at the soft calling of his name. "I was just thinking about you."_

"_You were?" Dwayne arched an eyebrow wondering how much of his brain was scrambled after the repeated chair shots._

"_Yup, c'mere, I gots something to tell ya." Mick's words were starting to slur and Dwayne looked out in the hall to see if there was a trainer nearby in case Mick seemed to get worse. "Have a seat, I'm not gonna bite or nothing…"_

_Dwayne perched uncertainly on edge of the small table; keeping a close eye on Mick's each and every movement and ready to dart away if he looked like his stomach contents were going to suddenly vacate his body. Once more Dwayne found himself pulled close, Mick's warm breath puffing against his ear as the older man mumbled incoherently, his tongue every once and awhile catching the lobe and making him shiver. As gently as he could, Dwayne pulled away and turned to face veteran but any words that might have escaped him were silenced by Micks' lips being pressed firmly to his. As quick as it happened it was over, Mick's head falling down and resting on his chest as he lost complete consciousness._

The feel of someone nudging his elbow brought him out of his reverie and he looked down to see a small raven headed crew member pointing at her watch and practically shoving him towards the ramp. He shook his head and tried to get back into the game, the ghostly fingers of the memory—so fresh in his mind yet so shadowy—clinging to the dark recesses as he stepped out and smiled that half smirk that had helped endear him to the fans years ago. The opening segment went well, Chris came out and ran his mouth followed by Hunter then Randy Orton. The crowd was electric and Dwayne did the only thing he knew, he turned it up and blew the top of the arena. Insults flew and catch phrases tossed about, bringing back an air that the fans had long since forgotten yet craved to see and when he finally ducked back through the opening that led to the backstage Dwayne felt the familiar tingle of adrenaline surging through his veins. The rush slowly ebbed away when he found himself in the room put aside for his use that night. A tv was in the corner and he flicked the juice on, watching as the screen slowly flickered to life and he flipped through the channels as he waited for his next segment.

He stopped when a familiar face graced the glowing tube and he cocked his head as he looked over the form of the man that had helped him all those years ago. His hair, still a mess of curls, was contained in a ponytail at the nap of his neck, and his flannel shirt replaced by a vest with Native American bead work. But that smile and fire were still there as he ripped into the man across from him; an old rival with silver hair and an oily grin. The wings of the new rediscovered butterflies flapped; sending ticklish shivers through him as Mick shouted and argued, his eyes snapping fire as he tried to get his point across. As the screen went black Dwayne realized that what Mick had told him had come true, everyone was still stuck; mired down while he had somehow managed to rise above and move on with his life once he had reached the pinnacle of the pro-wrestling world. But it was due to Mick's words about putting himself first and not looking back that had drove him, when the commerical was over and Mick and Eric once mor graced the screen, he wondered why Mick never took his own advice. The two men had continued to bicker, drawing out most of the TNA locker room and Dwayne looked on in near amazement as most of the younger and newer guys took their place behind Mick while the ECW Originals flanked his sides. Perhaps it wasn't about learning the ropes and moving on, but rather about learning to cope with those ropes and work with what you got. If that was Micks' lesson then it was well learned and Dwayne smiled as he realized that he hadn't just learned from a concerned veteran, but from a true master of the art of survival.


End file.
